"They were harmless dolls designed for Halloween. But nobody brought them that season, and then one day they were all sold," said Senior Mr. Farrington.
"Please sign this here," said the mailman, handing him a piece of paper on a board along with a pen. After Sylvester had finished signing, the man politely remarked, "Enjoy your day, Sir. Because life is short."
"Tch," the man who was standing outside the house said with a grimace before clicking his tongue. "There is not a single ounce of ladylike manners or etiquette in her."
"AHHHHHH!!" The young woman's scream pierced the wintry air as they beheld the lifeless body sprawled above the bridge's arch, blood continuing to trickle from its wounds and falling on the pure white snow below.
"I am very interested." There was a quiet yearning in her voice. "But I can't." This was an opportunity that she knew was rare and was something her heart soared at. But not everyone was fortunate enough to follow their dreams.
"That's fine. You don't have to do that," and don't you have a job? Sylvester asked in his mind. He didn't want anyone to keep an eye on him or his house. There had been times when he had caught the Gardner with muddy hands and muddy shoes during night.
Sylvester walked to the kitchen he had left this morning. His eyes fell on three broken eggshells, a messy counter with evidence of an onion cut for an omelette as the pan was left on the stove.
The waitress approached their table with a charming and polite smile. She took the orders, starting with Elizabeth, then Lady Delilah, and when it was Sylvester's turn, he ordered no more than a salad as he lacked an appetite.
"Let's finish up the rest after lunch," Sylvester instructed the two workers. Stepping off the stage, he made his way to the front hall and found his mother surrounded by a few of her admirers. Once they dispersed, his mother walked over to where he stood and planted a kiss on his cheek.